


Blame: The Worst Game

by angellteeth



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Gen, Maybe - Freeform, always woth the fuckin question marks, anyway the ending is nice, ford is guilty, hopeful at best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth
Summary: It was his fault. His fault, all of it. His fault. His fault that the kids were irreversibly scarred. His fault his brother went to sleep with a 50/50 chance of having all his memories in the morning. His fault Fiddleford's life was ruined. His fault everyone in Gravity Falls had been tortured so much over the span of a week that they couldn't even talk about it. His fault. His fault. His fault.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Blame: The Worst Game

It was his fault. His fault, all of it. His fault. His fault that the kids were irreversibly scarred. His fault his brother went to sleep with a 50/50 chance of having all his memories in the morning. His fault Fiddleford's life was ruined. His fault everyone in Gravity Falls had been tortured so much over the span of a week that they couldn't even talk about it. His fault. His fault. His fault.

It made him sick just to think about it. Just to see and be seen by the people he hurt, as if they could still possibly somehow just maybe love him, it made his stomach turn. They couldn't. They had to be lying. But for what? To hurt him? They would never. They must feel bad for him. He had suffered too, after all. But it was his own fault. He deserved what he got. He was punished for a mistake. They shouldn't feel obligated to lie.

But they must be. There was no way they could still care for him. It made no sense.

_It was all his fault._

They should hate him.

They should.

But whenever he locked himself away in the basement, doing nothing real, one of them would come down and make him come upstairs. 

He felt worse for hiding. He could at least help fix the problems he created. He could be helping Stan or the kids or Fiddleford or anybody at all, but he hid whenever he was allowed. He couldn't look his mistakes in the eye and the longer he avoided it the harder it became. No matter how many times it crossed his mind, he didn't stop hiding until the end of summer, when he asked Stan to go with him.

By all means, Stan had no reason to accept. He had every reason to refuse, to punch him in the face and curse his name. He would've understood. But Stan didn't. Stan accepted. And he didn't know why. What did Stan get from being in a confined space with someone he should hate? It didn't make sense.

None of what had been happening made any sense.

And the longer it stewed in his brain, the harder it was to meet his brother's eye. And he knew it was hurting them both to avoid eye contact and general contact and practically sink into his sweater whenever they were in close proximity but he couldn't _stop_ and that was making it _worse_.

It was _his fault_. 

**_His fault._**.

**_He couldn't take it._ **

He receded further into himself, hiding as much as he could. Which wasn't much, but it was still noticeable. Stan definitely noticed, at least.

And soon enough, he stopped letting him hide.

He dragged him out and sat him down.

"We need to talk." He'd said.

This was it. Stan was done lying. Done with the pity. Done pretending to care. Done pretending to forgive. Done with _him_. He knew it was right but it felt wrong. It twisted his gut. But he deserved it. It was his fault.

"Are you okay?" Stan's face, along with everything else really, softened.

No, no no no. That was wrong. Stan shouldn't be worrying about him. It didn't make sense. He'd ruined everything. He'd made it horrible. He should be the one worrying. And he was. He was worrying _so much_ just _not enough_.

He still hadn't made up for everything why did Stan _care_?

"I'm fine." His answer was delayed and unconvincing. He couldn't even lie right.

Stan looked unimpressed.

"Sixer, don't make me pry it outta ya."

He knew Stan would, if he didn't talk. But if he talked he'd just be coercing Stan into pitying him more. He'd be playing the victim without even trying. Manipulating his brother without even wanting to.

"It... It doesn't concern you, Stanley." He didn't make eye contact. He couldn't make eye contact.

"Like hell it doesn't. Talk to me."

Stan wouldn't let it go, he knew that. They'd be there all night and longer if he didn't just spit it out.

He opened his mouth and choked on the words.

They wouldn't come out.

He couldn't do it.

_He couldn't even apologize for being a horrible brother, uncle, friend, everything._

He sunk into himself, hunching his shoulders and staring at the tabletop. He didn't want to take up more space than he deserved. He was already doing that, though. He didn't deserve a space there.

Stan put a hand on his shoulder. Whatever his expression was, it must have been telling.

"Whatever it is, it's fine. Ya can talk to me."

He crumpled like a paper man, leaning forward on the table so heavily he was practically laying on it. Stan didn't pull his hand away. He didn't know if he was thankful for that or not.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-" He started, then stopped. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

Stan gently pushed back on his shoulder until he was sitting up. He braced his elbows on the table, hoping to stay that way. He still couldn't make eye contact. He couldn't even look him in the face.

"Calm down. What are you even apologizing for?"

How could Stan not know? Had he forgotten everything wrong he'd done? The thought made his stomach twist even more.

"Everything. Everything was my fault. All of it. The portal, _Him_ , the kids, the town, Fiddleford, you, its all _my_ fault." The words practically all fell out of his mouth.

For a minute, Stan was quiet. For a minute, he thought Stan would agree with him. It was what made sense.

"Horseshit."

Stan chose not to make sense. He never made any _sense_.

"You don't have to pretend to forgive me, Stan-"

Stan didn't let him finish.

"I'm not."

But how could he not? Stan had to be lying. It was he did best. He had to be. It didn't make sense that he wouldn't. It was all his fault. Stan should be mad. Stan should be agreeing.

"That doesn't make sense. It's my fault. If I had done _anything_ differently none of it would've happened."

"How many universes have you seen where it didn't happen?"

"Two."

And even so, it could've happened at some point after he was already gone without him ever knowing.

"So shut yer yap. Nobody is pretending anything, least of all me. If anything, it made us even." 

"What do you mean?"

Stan stared at him for a moment.

"I shoved you into a portal to hell. And you were stuck there for thirty years."

"A portal I designed. A portal I refused to destroy. Its my fault I ended up there."

"Stanford. It's not your fault you ended up in hell, it's not your fault hell ended up over here, and it's not you're fault I wouldn't let you go with any other options. Nobody blames you."

Stan had to be lying. Why wouldn't he be? But then, why would he be? What did he really stand to gain? Everything was.starting to unravel a bit.

He stayed quiet.

"Do you blame anybody else?"

The question was sudden.

"What? Of course not."

It was his burden alone.

"You don't blame Mabel for being tricked, or me for pushing you, or McGucket for helping build the portal?"

"It would be an egregious leap in logic."

"Then cut yourself some slack. You weren't the one running around turning people to stone."

It made sense, in a way.

The guilt died down, just a little. Just enough to look Stan in the eye.

"Trust me, Sixer, everybody is too busy being glad you're alive to even think bout blaming ya."

Stan sounded so sure of that fact, he found himself close to accepting it. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it was all okay now. If Stan, who had every right to hate him, didn't, maybe nobody else did either.

He was quiet for a minute.

"Thank you, Stan."

**Author's Note:**

> hey guess who didn't know how to FUCKIN END IT and then DELETED the ending then had to redo it but slightly more shoddy its ME BAYBEE ha ha ha haaaaa


End file.
